Stalking Sebald

In the twilight slowly falling over London we walked along the paths of the cemetery, past monuments erected by Victorians to commemorate their dead, past mausoleums, marble crosses, stelae and obelisks, bulbous urns and statues of angels, many of them wingless or otherwise mutilated, turned to stone, so it seemed to me, at the very moment they were about to take off from the earth.